


(don't) wear your heart on your sleeve

by reallylexis



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ficlet, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, crowley is so whipped, whip whip motherfucker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-09 19:47:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19482775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reallylexis/pseuds/reallylexis
Summary: wear them on your eyes, wear them on your wings.elaborating on the very important theme of "HEART EYES, MOTHERFUCKERS" but it's the ineffable husbands version.





	(don't) wear your heart on your sleeve

crowley doesn’t notice at first, he’s used to aziraphale’s quirks and all ( _tartan IS stylish, my dear fellow_ ). but when he does notice the … peculiarly-shaped eyes on his angel’s wings, he sputters to a stop, making a sound not unlike a seagull choking on a particularly nasty chunk of bony fish.

“ngk.”

aziraphale stops mid-rant about the latest customer who had the temerity to be offended when he wouldn’t sell his 1910 bound in half japanese vellum first illustrated edition of the picture of dorian gray. 

“you must remember to hydrate, crowley. human bodies are, after all, just water and what have-have-you. oh, your tea’s gone cold. what about some hot chocolate instead?” aziraphale takes in a breath, a pause as he tilts his head somewhat impatiently in crowley’s direction. a small frown begins to crease his forehead as crowley starts sputtering and makes more incomprehensible noises.

“is that sumerian? well, that was ages ago, but if you insist, i think i still remember some aramaic. or was it akkadian?” aziraphale says as he pushes a mug of hot chocolate into crowley’s flailing hands.

it’s scalding hot (just the way crowley prefers) but the mug knows better and is cool to the touch when crowley’s grips it tight in his hand. 

he stops flailing and looks at the three (3) marshmallows bobbing in the mug. the mug has a serpent’s head as a handle.

crowley finally says, not being quite able to keep the hiss out of his voice, “your wingssss…they’re not usually like that, are they?”

aziraphale half turns his body, as if he has only just started to take note of the numerous heart eyes (5,125 heart eyes to be exact) of various sizes and widths on his fluffy wings. 

“oh, you mean my heart eyes. i was wondering what was all the fuss about, making you tongue-tied and out of sorts. crowley, they’re just eyes. sometimes they become heart eyes when they feel like it.”

crowley’s eyes are magnificent as they are, ochre and glowing; only this time the luminosity is slightly exaggerated with how they’re trying to escape his eye sockets. it comes out whisper-like, “when they feel like it?”

“oh yes, the mood just comes and goes, i find it quite interesting to see what kind of shapes they come up with day to day.”

crowley takes a deep breath he doesn’t need, then another. “well, then, just got me slightly surprised is all. never seen it before all this time i’ve known you.”

“one simply cannot reveal everything all at once, crowley.” aziraphle says with just a hint of prim condescension, although his eyes have that cheeky gleam that crowley absolutely does not adore. 

“well then,” crowley says as he takes a sip of his hot chocolate and chews the three (3) marshmallows with more teeth than is absolutely necessary. 

the chocolate is scalding, just that right balance of heat and sweetness. he puts down the empty mug on a stack of antique books (aziraphale rolls his eyes and there’s a tartan coaster miraculously placed beneath the mug.   
  
“well then,” aziraphale echoes, his own eyebrows slowly reaching for the peak of his forehead. he clasps his hands in front of him, the only sign of nervousness that crowley can pick up (after observing a celestial being in close quarters for over many millennia, one notices such tiny quirks.) 

another seagull-choking-adjacent sound. then crowley relaxes, lounges even more than his human spine was aware it could. a small grin and crowley reaches for the sunglasses he’s wearing and swaps its for a new pair that has resigned itself to the fact of its new, peculiarly-shaped frame. 

crowley puts on his heart-shaped sunglasses. the frame is edged in rose-gold and he will not take any comments thank you very much.

aziraphale bites back a reply and settles on a grin that does wonders to soothe his mood about that pesky, ignoramus customer earlier. 

“i’m feeling a bit peckish. what do you think about fish and chips?”

crowley makes another seagull-adjacent sound. but he merely gets up, adjusting his sunglasses firmly on his nose as he grins back at his angel. 

**Author's Note:**

> this was written on the spur of the moment and i hope i've done the theme right :)


End file.
